30.4.2010
My early liaison with medical services
For an Indian family, the only fields of jobs that strike the correct chord and are worth being called a career are law, engineering and medicine. On the sly, in a family function, they would sneer at people who proudly announce of their kids’ success in any other fields beside these big kahunas. “What pilot? That’s a glorified driver!” they would say, “…and a flight attendant is nothing more than a maid in the sky who would serve your juice.” Those who do not go to a 9 to 5 job or don a tie to work are considered loafers to these people. And teaching is for those who did not quite make it to the three fields above. This perception is slowly changing of course. In this time and age, if one were to look around Kuala Lumpur, it is easier to find an Indian doctor or lawyer than to find a convenience store! And not all of them are minting money, as some has have to stoop so low to make ends meet in this ever competitive dog eat dog world. Anyway, I was roped into the field of medicine not because my undying thirst to serve mankind or to find a panacea to treats all ills of mankind but rather as to secure a honest recession-proof way out of poverty without having to depend on others. It would be just me, my knowledge, skill and goodwill. At least that was the advice given to me by my Mama when I completed my STPM (A levels) and was at a crossroad deciding between Medicine in University Science Malaysia and Engineering in National University of Singapore.
Growing up in RRF, I never really had big ambitions. I always aimed small. Before any examination - be it school test, SRP, SPM or STPM- my game plan was to give the best shot and hope for the best. The mission was only to clear the immediate hurdle; not aim for the moon and if you were to miss it, you would be among the stars! It does not make much sense because the stars are so much further than the moon anyway!
My initial liaison with the medical field started in RRF with self medication. Panadol seemed to work for aches, pains and fevers most of the times. Failure of this modality of treatment would require a bus trip to Ayer Itam Health Clinic armed with 3 or 4 glass bottles just to be seen by a dresser (Medical Assistant) and given medicines in the bottles that we brought. For minor bruises and wounds, crushed M & B (May & Baker) aspirin tablets in coconut oil or Gentian Violet solution worked wonders.
Sheila and sometimes Lats were bogged down with frequent exacerbations of bronchial asthma needing Nebulizer. They had to be taken to Klinik Koon at G Block for emergency treatment if it was outside office hours. (If not, it would be trip to Ayer Itam). When I say the adverse effects of the treatment are worse than the treatment itself, I am of course referring to the constant whining and soliloquy of Amma for money wasted on them after they have got better! There was also a time when Sheila was seeking ayurvedic treatment from a Mr Abbas for her seemingly intractable asthma. My parents spent quite a fortune on this seemingly useless remedy without batting an eyelid. Sheila was on a couple of white, greenish and yellow powders towards this end. For all you know it could be wheat, greenpeas and horse gram dhal flours respectively! Anyway this hereditary disease thankfully did not follow her into adulthood.
There was a time (over a span of a few years) when Amma was suffering from excruciating bilateral knee pain. We were also suffering as well from her constant complain of the pain. After many trips to Ayer Itam clinic which proved futile, she resorted to the advice of a Hindu faith healer. His dodgy treatments which involve abstinence of certain food stuff and avoidance of food consumption in certain ‘unholy places’ was however able keep her in remission for a mighty long time. I was assigned to pluck a certain leaf from the edge of the Chinese Cemetery near RRF which was wrapped around her knees followed by application of pre-heated bricks! Retrospective analysis of her condition probably places her diagnosis as between psychosomatic illness and ligamentous injuries. This kind of mumbo-jumbo also showed its ugly head again when I went off to Kubang Kerian to complete my 4th and 5th year of studies. I was asked by Amma to wear an amulet to ward off any evil charms put by the pretty Kelantanese lasses on her short, dark and uninspiring son.
My milk teeth were so attached to me that they refused to fall off even the permanent teeth had almost grown in entirety. That left a massive overcrowding of teeth to complement the ugly face. At least it formed the topic of conversation whenever any relative who came to my house had run out of topics to gossip. That prompted my parents to seek treatment at the newly built Dental Nursing training school in Sepoy Lines Road. My misaligned crooked overcrowded dental architecture was treated with dental extraction, braces and orthodontic treatment which spanned years altogether leaving me with a jaw that looks like some strong pugilist had given a nice right hand knock-out jab (that is what my wife calls it). The braces also brought with it some sob stories.
I remember that when Lats was small, she was not so healthy. She was a cry baby. It created a lot of friction between my parents. It was more than they could handle after the financial tsunami. Amma was feeling guilty as she had forgotten to take her pills ending up with her third (unplanned) pregnancy. Lats had problems with her gastrointestinal system, frequently passing greenish fetid stools. Again after many unsuccessful modern medical treatment, my parents obtained blessings and sprinkling of holy water (Air Zam-Zam) by a holy sage in Pitt Street Mosque! Does that mean Lats has been taken over to the Moslem side?
As far as I remember, Appa had never involved himself in recreational or sports activities. My only recollection of his involvement in sports is when he participated in a Big Walk with his bank wearing bib No.36. His inertia and increasing abdominal girth must have contributed to his affliction with diabetes at a young age of 38 years. Soon after his diagnosis was made, he was admitted to the Adventist Hospital for stabilization. His initial euphoria of being treated at a private hospital after toiling in the bank for so long was short lived when he was told at the end the man that monthly deductions need to be done on half of the total hospital bill. Being aware of the dangers of diabetes and the fact that Appa was the bread winner of the family, Amma went on great lengths to ensure that his meals were prepared accordingly. Sugar was restricted in his drinks, bitter gourd was a regular feature in his meals and neem juice was extracted from its leaves for Appa to gulp on a regular basis. I had to cycle to Adventist Hospital to buy his highly palatable high fibre bread and simply amazing cheese from the hospital canteen.
Diabetes mellitus is one disease that I would like to keep at bay for a very long time. This is one of the main reasons why I have been trying to keep my weight in check via exercise. Time and tide waits for no man but what else can a mere mortal do but try?
My early liaison with medical services
For an Indian family, the only fields of jobs that strike the correct chord and are worth being called a career are law, engineering and medicine. On the sly, in a family function, they would sneer at people who proudly announce of their kids’ success in any other fields beside these big kahunas. “What pilot? That’s a glorified driver!” they would say, “…and a flight attendant is nothing more than a maid in the sky who would serve your juice.” Those who do not go to a 9 to 5 job or don a tie to work are considered loafers to these people. And teaching is for those who did not quite make it to the three fields above. This perception is slowly changing of course. In this time and age, if one were to look around Kuala Lumpur, it is easier to find an Indian doctor or lawyer than to find a convenience store! And not all of them are minting money, as some has have to stoop so low to make ends meet in this ever competitive dog eat dog world. Anyway, I was roped into the field of medicine not because my undying thirst to serve mankind or to find a panacea to treats all ills of mankind but rather as to secure a honest recession-proof way out of poverty without having to depend on others. It would be just me, my knowledge, skill and goodwill. At least that was the advice given to me by my Mama when I completed my STPM (A levels) and was at a crossroad deciding between Medicine in University Science Malaysia and Engineering in National University of Singapore.
Growing up in RRF, I never really had big ambitions. I always aimed small. Before any examination - be it school test, SRP, SPM or STPM- my game plan was to give the best shot and hope for the best. The mission was only to clear the immediate hurdle; not aim for the moon and if you were to miss it, you would be among the stars! It does not make much sense because the stars are so much further than the moon anyway!
My initial liaison with the medical field started in RRF with self medication. Panadol seemed to work for aches, pains and fevers most of the times. Failure of this modality of treatment would require a bus trip to Ayer Itam Health Clinic armed with 3 or 4 glass bottles just to be seen by a dresser (Medical Assistant) and given medicines in the bottles that we brought. For minor bruises and wounds, crushed M & B (May & Baker) aspirin tablets in coconut oil or Gentian Violet solution worked wonders.
Sheila and sometimes Lats were bogged down with frequent exacerbations of bronchial asthma needing Nebulizer. They had to be taken to Klinik Koon at G Block for emergency treatment if it was outside office hours. (If not, it would be trip to Ayer Itam). When I say the adverse effects of the treatment are worse than the treatment itself, I am of course referring to the constant whining and soliloquy of Amma for money wasted on them after they have got better! There was also a time when Sheila was seeking ayurvedic treatment from a Mr Abbas for her seemingly intractable asthma. My parents spent quite a fortune on this seemingly useless remedy without batting an eyelid. Sheila was on a couple of white, greenish and yellow powders towards this end. For all you know it could be wheat, greenpeas and horse gram dhal flours respectively! Anyway this hereditary disease thankfully did not follow her into adulthood.
There was a time (over a span of a few years) when Amma was suffering from excruciating bilateral knee pain. We were also suffering as well from her constant complain of the pain. After many trips to Ayer Itam clinic which proved futile, she resorted to the advice of a Hindu faith healer. His dodgy treatments which involve abstinence of certain food stuff and avoidance of food consumption in certain ‘unholy places’ was however able keep her in remission for a mighty long time. I was assigned to pluck a certain leaf from the edge of the Chinese Cemetery near RRF which was wrapped around her knees followed by application of pre-heated bricks! Retrospective analysis of her condition probably places her diagnosis as between psychosomatic illness and ligamentous injuries. This kind of mumbo-jumbo also showed its ugly head again when I went off to Kubang Kerian to complete my 4th and 5th year of studies. I was asked by Amma to wear an amulet to ward off any evil charms put by the pretty Kelantanese lasses on her short, dark and uninspiring son.
My milk teeth were so attached to me that they refused to fall off even the permanent teeth had almost grown in entirety. That left a massive overcrowding of teeth to complement the ugly face. At least it formed the topic of conversation whenever any relative who came to my house had run out of topics to gossip. That prompted my parents to seek treatment at the newly built Dental Nursing training school in Sepoy Lines Road. My misaligned crooked overcrowded dental architecture was treated with dental extraction, braces and orthodontic treatment which spanned years altogether leaving me with a jaw that looks like some strong pugilist had given a nice right hand knock-out jab (that is what my wife calls it). The braces also brought with it some sob stories.
I remember that when Lats was small, she was not so healthy. She was a cry baby. It created a lot of friction between my parents. It was more than they could handle after the financial tsunami. Amma was feeling guilty as she had forgotten to take her pills ending up with her third (unplanned) pregnancy. Lats had problems with her gastrointestinal system, frequently passing greenish fetid stools. Again after many unsuccessful modern medical treatment, my parents obtained blessings and sprinkling of holy water (Air Zam-Zam) by a holy sage in Pitt Street Mosque! Does that mean Lats has been taken over to the Moslem side?
As far as I remember, Appa had never involved himself in recreational or sports activities. My only recollection of his involvement in sports is when he participated in a Big Walk with his bank wearing bib No.36. His inertia and increasing abdominal girth must have contributed to his affliction with diabetes at a young age of 38 years. Soon after his diagnosis was made, he was admitted to the Adventist Hospital for stabilization. His initial euphoria of being treated at a private hospital after toiling in the bank for so long was short lived when he was told at the end the man that monthly deductions need to be done on half of the total hospital bill. Being aware of the dangers of diabetes and the fact that Appa was the bread winner of the family, Amma went on great lengths to ensure that his meals were prepared accordingly. Sugar was restricted in his drinks, bitter gourd was a regular feature in his meals and neem juice was extracted from its leaves for Appa to gulp on a regular basis. I had to cycle to Adventist Hospital to buy his highly palatable high fibre bread and simply amazing cheese from the hospital canteen.
Diabetes mellitus is one disease that I would like to keep at bay for a very long time. This is one of the main reasons why I have been trying to keep my weight in check via exercise. Time and tide waits for no man but what else can a mere mortal do but try?
what a sob story
ReplyDeleteI should digg your article therefore other people can see it, very useful, I had a tough time finding the results searching on the web, thanks.
ReplyDelete- Thomas
Thanks, thomas.
ReplyDelete